


figure unheedy haste

by heartsways



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, i'm okay with that oddly enough, lady surgeons in love, metaphors up the wazoo, there's a teensy mention of fletch but...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:23:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9447386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsways/pseuds/heartsways
Summary: bernie has lots of thoughts about serena but they're not really work-appropriate...originally posted on tumblr but fussed over and stared at for a while before reposting here





	

There's a sensitive spot on Serena's neck, about two-thirds of the way up.  Bernie discovered it one preciously lazy Sunday morning when the mere act of existing in the same place as Serena - the same bed - seemed like the only pleasure she'd ever really sought.  Bernie's always been a quick study and this is no different; she's applied herself assiduously to a variety of techniques but, in the end, the effect is always the same.

 

There's something vaguely addictive about the way Serena's eyes flutter shut as Bernie's tongue sweeps over the spot, or the sharp, husked breath she sucks in when Bernie's teeth scrape across skin.  Sometimes, just the brush of Bernie's mouth, whispering the sort of things she's never been brave enough to say to anyone else, is enough to make Serena's head loll back, make her arch towards Bernie's arms and her touch and her body that's always so eager and warm.

 

It's become a point of honour, really: all the ways in which Bernie seeks to please Serena.  Intellectually, she knows the laws of attraction don't really have any rules.  They don't adhere to the strictures of science or medicine and they're unpredictable, a wildfire across tinder-dry landscape.  But Bernie's been in a warzone before; she's good at improvising under pressure, having a Plan B, anticipating the unexpected because that's been her mantra up until now.  Be prepared.  Be ready.  Be aware.

 

If it can go wrong, then it probably will.  And Bernie's had to adapt to standing in the rubble of her own destruction, wondering how on earth she's going to rebuild and make it stronger, perhaps even something that might endure.

 

But she's not entirely sure she's ever had a Plan B when it comes to Serena.  It's forced her into thinking about the infinitesimal; the minutiae that stops her bigger picture falling apart before she's even begun to put it together.  It's why she focuses on that spot of skin, the muscle beneath it, the sound Serena makes when Bernie leans over her and makes it their only point of blistering contact.  Because sometimes, she can't see anything else for fear of looking.  And the future has always yawned so bleakly that to have hope now - _at her age, for god's sake, and with all the baggage she's carting around_ \- seems the opposite of who she is.

 

And yet...

 

Bernie clutches the sheaf of folders she's holding more tightly against her chest.  Out of the corner of her eye she sees Fletch grinning at her and when she fixes him with a colder look than is really necessary, he seems oddly unperturbed.  His eyebrows rise a couple of times and he nods like they're sharing a secret.  It's not the fact that she's been caught staring that makes Bernie clear her throat and push back against the hard wall behind her; it's really more that these people think she belongs to them, that she's one of them now.

 

She takes a breath and glares down at the floor.  Having a family always meant having to eventually leave them behind, whether it was held in the forlorn faces of children or the battle-weary countenances fading into endless desert.  This family has adopted her, whether she wants it or not.  Every time she's reminded of it, Bernie's also reminded of what she has to lose.  

 

Wrapping her arms firmly around the folders, Bernie blinks away the descending gloom and tries to focus on what Serena's saying.  She insisted on a staff briefing but all she's really doing is handing out edicts like she's the Queen of bloody Sheba which means she's probably nervous.  Bernie makes a mental note to ask her what's wrong later on, but the truth of the matter is that, nervous or not, she could listen to Serena talk forever about most things.  Anything, really.  Sometimes just the sound of her voice is a sonorous comfort Bernie indulges in.  It's one of the things she missed the most when she was away.

 

Serena's mid-sentence when she turns her head and happens to look directly at Bernie.  Something she sees makes her break off and even if it's only for a millisecond, the silence seems to roar in Bernie's ears.  Barely missing a beat, Serena's gaze swings away and she glances down at the notes in her hand - little cards that Bernie sat and watched her scribble out last night - before carrying on as though nothing's happened in her brisk, businesslike manner that brooks no dissent.  

 

She doesn't look Bernie's way again until the briefing is over and the staff have scattered across the ward.  There's a knowing gleam in Serena's eye as she pushes past Bernie and into their office.  By the time Bernie's followed her and closed the door behind them, Serena's sitting behind her desk and puffing out her cheeks.  Resignation cuts lines around her eyes.

 

Bernie leans against the door.  Plan B: waiting.

 

"Well," Serena finally says, "I'm glad I spent an hour putting together all those statistics last night considering not a single member of the AAU staff were actually paying any attention to them."

 

The flat tone to her voice makes Bernie hum a little, a conciliatory response.  "Oh, I don't know," she shrugs.  "I rather enjoy your rousing speeches."

 

Serena narrows her eyes and huffs out a thankless little grunt.  "I suppose that might go some way to explaining the way you were looking at me, in that case."

 

"What?"  Bernie shakes her head, feigning confusion.  But she knows as Serena's lips tighten that she can't pull it off and she sighs, slumping enough to make the blinds gently tip-tap against the window.

 

"I was appreciating you," she tells Serena as enigmatically as she can.

 

"You were ogling me," Serena barks.

 

"I was appreciating you a lot."  Bernie goes for diffident this time, pushing herself off the wall and wandering over to her desk.  "And I'm not a teenager," she adds, mildly offended. "I don't ogle."

 

"It put me off my stride."

 

"Hardly," Bernie snorts, dropping her armful of folders onto the desk where they land with a dull thud.  "You rallied admirably."

 

"That's because I spent an hour of my precious time last night preparing notes when I really shouldn't have bothered," Serena's voice grates sardonically.  She rolls her eyes.  "I should have had that third glass of wine, after all."

 

"You did," Bernie says.  Serena opens her mouth to protest and Bernie holds up a finger, silencing her.  "Then you asked me to hide the bottle from you on pain of death until you'd finished."  She sits down in her chair, smug enough to make Serena scowl at her.

 

"Right, you're more than obliging when it comes to restricting my wine intake," Serena intones, "but when it comes to not putting me off you don't play fair."  

 

She leans back in her chair, attempting to look disapproving but when Bernie sweeps some hair from her eyes and takes a huge breath of refute, Serena proffers a tight little smile.  She's not really angry - not at Bernie, anyway.  She's tired and frustrated and, she admits reluctantly, looking forward to the first free evening she's had in weeks more than the surgery she's got scheduled this afternoon.  It's funny how her priorities have changed now that she's afforded herself the luxury of actually having them, rather than dancing to an ever-demanding tune of work, Jason, family, work.

 

Being with Bernie feels like a breath of fresh air: bracing and new and buoying her when she can't carry herself.  It's a feeling she's still getting used to - the fortitude she's always had to find within herself now coming from another person.

 

It's not all she feels coming from Bernie, however.  

 

"So," Serena says, eyeing Bernie carefully across their desks, "what was it?"

 

Bernie fiddles with the cover of the top folder on her stack, flipping her fingernail underneath it then patting it down again a few times.  "What was what?" she asks lightly, gazing downwards.

 

"That look," Serena insists.  Bernie's eyes are wide, dark as they gaze back at her and Serena shakes her head, suddenly feeling foolish.  "Never mind," she snaps, "but it's hardly appropriate workplace behaviour."

 

"I'll remind you of that the next time we're in surgery and you're giving me the eye from behind your scrub mask," Bernie comments blithely.  "Or the next time you're kissing me in this office.  Or - "

 

"I really should have had that extra glass of wine," Serena grumbles.

 

"Have it tonight," Bernie suggests.  "Have it with me."

 

This time, her expression is unmistakable; her intent is clear.  And it's so steadfast and visceral that Serena feels it deep in her gut: that sway towards Bernie that she's always felt, right from the start.  Only, now she knows what it is she can feel it lick a flame inside her that's definitely not workplace appropriate.

 

"Is that what you were thinking about?"  

 

The gravel in Serena's tone makes Bernie's mouth quirk up into a tiny smile.  She leans her elbows onto her desk, resting her chin on top of her clenched hands.

 

"Among other things," she says simply.

 

One of Serena's eyebrows arches and she knows that taking this conversation further ventures into territory she's already warned Bernie about.  She glances towards the office door: closed.  Then she looks back at Bernie: so beautifully open right now that Serena feels almost blinded by it.

 

"And what...ah...in the interests of science, of course," Serena clears her throat and straightens her desk diary even though it's not crooked, "were those other things?"

 

Bernie chuckles, rising from her chair.  She scoops up the pile of folders and rounds the corner of the desk, coming to a stop beside Serena.

 

"I can tell you," she begins slowly, as Serena looks up at her, "or I can show you tonight, if you like.  In the interests of science, of course."

 

There's an upturn to her mouth as they nod at one another that makes Serena a little breathless, even a little giddy.  She's wordless as Bernie squints down at her, then gently takes Serena's chin between her thumb and finger, turning her head to one side.

 

"At the risk of being highly inappropriate and earning myself another telling off," Bernie murmurs, her eyes fixed on that patch of skin she can't stop thinking about, "I was hoping to continue with my research."

 

Serena frowns as Bernie lets go of her chin.  "Research?"

 

"Into just how sensitive you are here," Bernie says.  She brushes her thumb over Serena's neck, drawing it down to where a pulse point is leaping beneath the skin.  Serena gasps and Bernie shrugs as nonchalantly as she can.  "Call it a scientific endeavour, if you like." 

 

When she moves away, it's with a self-satisfied sort of swagger.  Bernie can't help a tiny laugh at herself.  Maybe she is something of a teenager, after all.  Maybe she deserves to feel that way.

 

Her fingers close around the doorhandle when she hears her name, hoarse and beautifully broken.  Turning, Bernie sees everything undisguised in Serena's gaze and it thrills her to know that they share this feeling, this impetus towards one another.

 

"You can't - " Serena forces out, catching herself and swallowing hastily.  "You can't look at me that way here, though.  Next time I might have to do something about it.  And, as liberal as AAU staff are, I'm not sure they'd appreciate you and I in the throes of passion on the admissions desk."

 

Bernie pretends to consider the scenario but the smirk on her face is positively sinful as she opens the door and lets in the bustle of the ward outside.  "Look at it this way," she says equivocally, "I'm fairly certain that'd grab their attention more than another speech."

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
